Homecoming
by soisforte
Summary: After an unforgettable game of Seven Minutes in Heaven, Gilbert Beilschmidt's Homecoming week takes a turn for the crazy and almost-romantic. Okay, REALLY romantic.  PruHun AU
1. saturday night

_A/N: OTL what is this. Written in a moment of loneliness. I have more ideas. Probably will be... hmm... a 5-shot at most? I actually really like this story, hur hur hur... It's super-intense PruHun, so if you don't approve, then don't read. No hating please!_

_Mathias = Denmark  
>Mei = Taiwan (hur hur hur)<br>Bella = Belgium. Lol, Bella's always Belgium._

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><p><strong>Time: Saturday before Homecoming, 11:48 PM<strong>

**Place: Carriedo Residence [which, by the way, is this **_**ginormous **_**mansion? Yeah. I know. RICH.]**

Mathias was probably on his fourth beer now (or maybe it was more than that. I wasn't really counting). He was prancing around with his shirt off screaming profanities and laughing like some crazy person. Funnily enough, it seemed to work with chicks, because Mei was hitting on him. A lot. And he was hitting right back, the player.

I snickered. That guy was totally in for a legit hangover tomorrow. _Morning, bitches…_

So Antonio had decided, since his parents were out of town for the weekend, to have this crazy-ass, raging party the weekend before Homecoming where all us upperclassmen were basically going to drink like no tomorrow. Definitely great preparation for college. I mean, screw AP classes and SATs. _This_ right here is college life. Tony had pretty much invited the entire junior and senior class, and there were people everywhere: on the couches, in the kitchen, on the pool deck, in the pool. It was insane.

Mass chaos. If you were gonna look that up in the dictionary, this party would be the picture next to it. Likewise, if you were gonna look up "fucking wasted," Mathias's picture would be right next to it.

"WHOOOOO!" Mattie stood on top of the coffee table that had been pushed up against the wall to make room for the makeshift dance floor. People cheered as he grinned and waved at the crowd with a neon green megaphone. (Who makes megaphones neon green?)

"ALL RIGHT GUYS!" he yelled into the megaphone. "WE'RE GONNA PLAY A GAME! SEVEN MINUTES IN HEAVEN, ARE YA WITH ME!"

I nearly spewed my beer out in the crowd; I'd started laughing so hard. Who'd want to play a lame middle-school make-out game? Uncool! I mean, Mattie was my bro, but dude! So uncool!

"EXCEPT WE'RE GONNA CHANGE IT UP A LITTLE BIT!" A blond head bobbed through the crowd, making its way up to the coffee table. This time, I really did spew my beer, all over Francis's hair (but he didn't really care… he was busy being… well… drunk). _Arthur? What the hell? _I remembered that Arthur got a little loopy when he was drunk, but all Alfred had told me was when the guy was drunk, he'd just bitch about how everyone in America were idiots. (Yyyyyeah, thanks.)

But anyway, Arthur and Mathias were up on the coffee table, both red in the face and drunk. Somehow Arthur had "HE'S GONNA DIE IN THE END" written on his chest and someone had drawn a goofy face on Mattie's.

Question: Was this night scaring the hell out of me?

Answer: _You do not know how much._

"So guyyysssh," Mattie said, slurring his words. "Ya know how they're gonna be in th' closhet? WELL WE'RE GONNA PUT 'EM IN THE BEDROOOM!"

I drank some more beer, hoping that the alcohol would somehow warp reality so that the night made sense. It didn't work. _Damn my Prussian dad,_ I thought. Somehow I'd always been able to hold my liquor (better than Arthur, anyway, pfft) pretty well. It took a lot more to get me drunk than most people. So at that moment, I was still pretty damn sober.

Which, at the moment, was a major downside.

Arthur held up two ginormous glass bowls of phones. Probably one with guys' phones and one with girls' phones. How or where he got them, I have no idea. I got the feeling I didn't really want to know.

"Okay!" Arthur crowed into the megaphone. "First guy in IS…." Everyone around me stomped their feet as the drum roll, while I stood there going, _Really, guys?_ But before I could say anything, Arthur hoisted the bowl up high (which swung precariously on the balance of his arm… very dangerous) while Mattie dug his hand around. And pulled out a phone. Actually, it was one of those Android phones. A really familiar Android phone.

A really fucking scarily familiar Android phone.

"GILBO!" Mattie announced, waving my phone—which I _swear _had been in my pocket five minutes ago—triumphantly in the air.

"HOW THE HELL DID YOU MOTHERFUCKERS GET MY PHONE?" I screamed, but everyone's cheers drowned me out.

"It'll be good for you, Gilbert!" Francis yelled drunkenly in my ear. "Relieve some of that sexual tension you got building up—"

"I HAVE NO SEXUAL TENSION!" I raged at him, while he laughed in my face (eugh... trust me, you do not know want to know what Francis's breath smells like). But then Mattie reached into the other bowl and pulled out another familiar phone. An iPhone with a flower cover.

"NO FUCKING WAY!" I yelled, staring at the front. Arthur giggled like mad and Mathias proclaimed the other girl's name into the megaphone.

"LIZZIE! COME ON DOWN!" The crowd whooped and cheered as she made her way up to the front. What did they think this was, _The Price is Right_? I clenched my fists. Screw fate. _This isn't funny, guys!_

"Oy, Gilbo!" Mattie threw an arm around my shoulders and laughed obnoxiously in my ear. "Looks like you're gonna get some tonight!"

"Shut up, man!" I tried to fight him off, but he was surprisingly strong, even while drunk. Somehow he managed to drag me up the stairs and throw me in the room.

"Really, guys?" I whined, but no, the door slammed in my face and the lock clicked. I pounded on the door. "Guys? GUYS!" No response, except if you count Mattie and Arthur giggling like mad.

Sometimes I hate my bros. They'd just left me and Elizaveta all alone in a room. With a bed._ I'm going to fucking murder both of you!_

Just great.

Did I ever mention that she was, I dunno, the girl that I've liked for, what, A WHILE NOW? Yeah, all started when we were neighbors and best friends and fought all the time. I'm not sure what happened, to be honest, but she randomly got all touchy and wouldn't talk to me the summer before high school. And plus, she went off on this thing where she basically toured Europe—cool, right? Very. But when I got on the bus first day of freshman year, I didn't see her. I didn't even see her at the bus stop, and she lives next door to me! It took me a week to figure out that the hot brunette dating my douche-y cousin Roderich was LIZZIE! Seriously! She'd become … _girly_. It was almost as scary as Francis drunk! No, scratch that. It was worse than that, even.

Since then, she's dated him all through freshman and sophomore year. Now we're juniors. They're still dating. And we're stuck in a room playing "Seven Minutes In Heaven."

IS THIS PREDICAMENT NOT FUCKED UP OR WHAT?

"Gilbert." I turned around and saw Lizzie walking towards me. "Let's just get this over with."

Next thing I knew she's kissing me.

Okay? She started it! I didn't do anything! Honestly… I felt really guilty about the whole thing. Roddy might've been a douche, but I had morals.

But well… it was really, really nice, actually. She was warm and her lips were soft and she tasted like beer and Snickers, both of which I like eating.

Then my shirt disappeared. And somehow we weren't up against the door anymore. Nope. We made use of the bed.

At that point, I was feeling really bad about the whole thing. If they were still dating, and she was hooking up with me, then technically… she was cheating on him.

But then she curled her fingers in my hair and wrapped her legs around my waist. I felt really dizzy for a second. My brain was dying on me. "Lizzie—what—are you sure about this?" I had a… well, an odd feeling about what was going to happen.

She stared at me with clear green eyes. "Gil. Come on."

"Lizzie, I—" My words were cut off because she shut me up with a kiss.

"Take my shirt off already, dumbass," she teased. Her fingers tugged on my belt.

I tensed. I won't lie, I was, well, pretty happy that she wanted this, but _she was still dating Roddy, dammit!_ And wasn't this going too far for a Saturday night hookup? Was Roddy not delivering or something? (Of course, if you'd known my prick of a cousin, that'd probably be true. The guy was too hung up on his piano to think about stuff like this. And he'd "rather not fall in with Gilbert's crowd," quoting exactly what he said to my dad. Yeah, thanks, man.) Seriously. The girl wanted some action.

And as awesome as I was… well…

She seemed to notice that I was having a tiny meltdown because she looked into my eyes and asked, "Is that okay?"

I stared at her for a second, then I lowered my head.

"Anything you want," I whispered against her lips.

_Anything for you, Lizzie._


	2. sunday morning

_A/N: short (crappy ;A;) transition chapter. I feel like I've disappointed all the people who subscribed to this and reviewed and added their story to favorites and stuff. Especially after the first chapter, which I was actually pretty half-pleased with. I'M SORRY! D; I'll try and make the next chapter better! It'll go more into details and stuff... all your questions about this will be answered!_

_(That was mostly to MiraMizu15... but you're still awesome! I love you!~ 3)_

_Btw, 'kæft' is Danish for 'shut up.' I just googled it, so if it's actually anything else, let me know please :)_

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><p><strong>Time: Sunday, 2:30 AM<strong>

**Place: Carriedo Residence [Still ginormous. Still rich, dammit.]**

Alright, before you say anything, WE DIDN'T DO IT.

It kind of got ruined in the middle when she started throwing up (right after she threw me off and crawled to the bathroom in record time). A little bit awkward, right? But I figured she needed some comfort, so I rolled off the bed, found my jeans, put them on, and followed her to the bathroom.

She was sitting on the floor, gasping over the toilet.

"Lizzie…" I knelt beside her. "You okay?"

She nodded, but then she started puking again.

We sat there, me holding her hair back (can't tell you how much I've had to do that for Francis over the summer) while she blew cherries into the toilet.

When she was done, she leaned back against me and cried. I mean, she was already tearing up from the crap that just came up her throat, but now she was crying, and holding on to me, and putting her face against my chest and… _crying_.

It was really kind of awkward. Even when we were little, I'd never seen Lizzie cry. She was always the tough tomboy who never cried, not even that one time when Sadiq broke her ankle (and they'd had their fair share of serious roughhousing back then). I think maybe I've cried more than she has (but don't tell anyone that; Francis and Tony would have a _fucking field day _with that). But here she was, blubbing (as Arthur always says) into my chest. Did I mention I was still shirtless?

"Lizzie…" I began, and then figured I should put my arm around her. I mean, it's not like she had any frying pans around to hit me with. And she didn't hit me, either. "Hey... it's okay."

I awkwardly patted her hair. She has really soft hair. Really nice, soft hair.

She took a deep, shaky breath. "No… it's not… I… Roderich…"

I gulped at the mention of my (douche-y) cousin_-who was still dating the girl I just hooked up with._ "W-what about him?"

She sighed, and started playing with my iron cross necklace that our dad gave me and Ludwig. "I don't know, Gil. I don't know." She looked up at me. "It's late. I'm tired. Let's just sleep."

I shrugged. "I'm okay with that."

The next thing I remember is waking up in that bed, Lizzie snuggled against me.

Best morning ever.

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><p><strong>Time: Sunday, 10:5<strong>**9 AM**

The first question Francis asked me that morning when I went downstairs for some food was "Did you guys do it?"

I hit him. "No, you perverted dickhead."

"_Kæft_*… my head hurts," Mattie moaned from the couch.

I yawned. "You had it coming, bro. Five beers?"

"I think it was six. Or seven."

I waved my hand at him. "There ya go. Instant hangover, right there."

He glared at me.

Most people had left in the wee early hours of the morning (Antonio was just randomly OCD like that—everyone had to be out of the house by 3 AM), but some people, like me, Francis, Mathias, and Arthur had slept over. We'd all known Tony long enough that our parents were cool with us crashing at his house overnight. And we didn't have much homework to do anyway, it being Homecoming week.

"Morning, boys," a voice chirped from the doorway, and Francis and I started when Francis's cousin Bella walked in. She wasn't really wearing a lot of clothes, I could tell you that.

"Bella?" we said in shock. _What, did she sleep with Arthur? Or Tony?_

"When did you get here, cuz?" Francis asked.

"Uh, I was at the party with my older brother, dumbasses," she said. "Now, is there any food in this joint?"

We all tensed. Bella's older brother was a scary senior who always smelled like cigarettes and had this weird scar on his forehead. Rumor had it that he was in a gang; he was that scary.

I scratched my head. "So… where's Tony?"

"Upstairs." Bella said nonchalantly, her voice muffled by the refrigerator door. "Oh hey. Waffles."

Francis and I exchanged a glance. _So it _was _Antonio…._

"Oh," I said.

"That's nice," Francis said.

"Shaddup," Matthias moaned. "You're all too loud."

"Suck it up," Francis and I said in unison.

"Hey guys!" Antonio popped in. "Who wants breakfast?"

We all stared at him. "What?" he asked.

* * *

><p><strong>Time: Sunday, 11:29 PM<strong>

Antonio was an okay cook. He could make omelets pretty damn well, except there were too many tomatoes in there for my liking. And he didn't make hash browns. He couldn't even find potatoes. Yeah, thanks, Tony. But his family was Hispanic, so it made sense that the guy had an affinity for tomatoes. I mean, at least they had bacon.

We were all eating (well, I was picking out the tomatoes and flicking them on to Antonio's plate) at the big table in the dining room when Lizzie suddenly spoke up. "Hey, is anyone willing to give me a ride? Cuz I was gonna get one from Mei, but Antonio here"—she glared at the airhead of an idiot—"kicked her out with his OCD 3 A.M. ultimatum."

"Well, you were sleeping with Gilbo here—"

"I DID NOT SLEEP WITH HER," I said, slamming my fork down.

Awkward silence while Arthur and Mathias guffawed under their breath. Lizzie ducked her head. "So, yeah… I need a ride back home." Was she blushing?

Mattie groaned. "I can't. I'm getting one from G—" He broke off suddenly and looked at me kind of pointedly.

"What, man?" I said, my mouth full of bacon.

Arthur stared at me too. "I'm taking Mathias home. He's too hungover to drive himself."

I frowned. "Since when?"

Arthur scoffed. "Since he asked me, of course!"

He was so British, which was amusing. But it bothered me that Mathias was suddenly off to drive home with Arthur. I remembered very clearly Mathias asking _me _for a ride, not that angry British kid.

"Well, I, unfortunately, have to take my dear cousin Bella home," Francis said, eating a piece of omelet. Bella glared at him. It randomly crossed my mind that the two looked scarily alike, except for Francis's beard. And their eyes (Francis had blue ones, Bella had green). _It's the hair. It's got to be the hair._

"I have an English project to finish," Antonio said apologetically. "It's due tomorrow and I haven't started yet."

An English project? Wait, was Antonio in my class? I think he was. What project was he talking about? Was it that paper over that one book where that girl cheats on her husband and ends up having to sew this ginormous red 'A' on all her clothes? Wait… a girl cheats on her husband?

The weight of last night suddenly hit me like a stone. _Ugggh… shit. Shit, shit, shit. _(And then some other stuff that is probably not even comprehensible. Or appropriate.)

I pretended to be fascinated by my eggs and began mentally composing a letter. _Dear God. Why does this always happen to me? I didn't start it! I swear on your behalf I didn't start it! _

"Gilbert?"

Lizzie's voice. I looked up. Everyone was staring.

"Hey, I know you all love to bask in the glory of my awesomeness," I said, stuffing some bacon into my mouth so I wouldn't look stupid. "But you don't have to be that obvious, right?"

Silence.

"Riiight?" I waved my fork around. _Yeah, way to be smooth, Gilbo._

"Gilbert, you don't mind giving me a ride, do you?" She looked at me curiously.

"Uh… sure. Yeah. Yeah, of course. I—um—yeah. Of course I'll take you home."

So that's what I did. After breakfast, I took Lizzie home, since, as mentioned before, she didn't have a ride. Pretty down-to-earth, now that I think about it, since all we did was get into my (awesome) car and drive. It was a quiet car ride, since she was kind of tired, and I didn't really have much to say. I felt really bad, actually, but I couldn't help liking the quietness in the car, just us. It was unusual.

But it was nice.

I pulled up to her house. She got out of the car and headed for the door.

I watched her as she fiddled with her keys, and just before she headed in, she turned her head and looked back at me. "Thank you!" she called, and gave me a small smile.

I nodded in response and drove off.

_Anything for you, Lizzy_.


	3. monday afternoon

_A/N: Sorry it's a little late ^_^; It seems to me that in this AU, Gilbert solely eats so he doesn't look like an idiot. Atlas High School was the best name I could think of. I mean. Ha ha. Hetalia. World. Map. Atlas. Ha. Ha ha ha._

_It was 2 AM when I thought of that name... don't judge ._

_DefyGravity2502: you might find some parts of Atlas High a little familiar ;)_

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><p><strong>Time: 12:32 PM<strong>

**Place: Atlas High School Main Cafeteria (our school is huge. We have like, 3 cafeterias.)**

"So, Gilbo," Antonio said, screwing on the cap of his thermos. "What's got you so happy today?" His breath smelled strongly of tomatoes and vodka—which was probably what he had in the thermos (I mean vodka, not tomatoes). Ivan, the creepy tall Russian exchange student had a bad habit of selling vodka to people. He also had a really bad habit of drinking vodka 24/7 like it was water. (Which explains a lot of things about his behavior if you ask me.)

"I'm _always_ awesome, if that's what you mean," I said casually, popping a fry into my mouth.

"No, no, no…" Francis leaned forward and studied me carefully. "You're definitely different today."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" I shrank away from his blue-eyed gaze. Sometimes I swear that my friends were _way_ too nosy. Seriously.

"Yeah, Gilbo's really happy today."Antonio copied Francis, which shot Eau de Drunken Tomato into my mouth. I pinched my nose. _No, thanks._

"Ohhhhh Tony, I think I know!" Francis sing-songed triumphantly.

"What, what, what?" Antonio said eagerly.

Francis grinned at me in a way that would have had the ladies running away screaming "RAPE!" (and frankly, I can't really blame them.) "Our little Gilbo is in love!"

"Whoaaaa!" Tony the airhead widened his eyes, obviously amazed. "With who?"

Here's the thing. I hadn't really told any of my friends that I'd liked Lizzie since freshman year, with the possible exception of my kid brother Ludwig (but he doesn't count). And no one had figured it out, because I was that awesome. To be honest, I was really fucking scared of what they could do with it. Even as awesome as I was, my friends were about the evilest people to walk the earth. I'd seen the damage they could do, and it was not pretty.

Sadly, this is what happened.

"Our little Gilbo—"

"Stop calling me that!" I grumbled. "Only chicks can call me that!"

"—is in love with _her!_" Francis used his straw to point at the wide-open double-door entrance.

At that exact moment, Lizzie walked in and—ugh—I stuffed food into my mouth I wouldn't look like a complete idiot—she looked amazing. She was dressed in a skirt—can you believe it? A _skirt—_with this tank top and she had this really cute flower barrette in her hair and she was smiling and laughing and, well, fuck! I slurped my milk loudly. (Hanging around Alfred does some things to you. Unfortunately I've now developed a taste for hamburgers and obnoxiously pink cakes.)

Then she turned around and I saw boy with brown hair and glasses. He was prim and uptight, with really formal-looking clothes, too formal for school, and an obnoxious beauty mark on his chin.

In short, it was my prick of a cousin, Roderich Edelstein. Holding hands with Lizzie. The girl I hooked up with on Saturday. The girl who was cheating on her boyfriend.

My day quickly went downhill.

"Awww, what's wrong, Gilbo?" Francis poked me in the cheek—have I mentioned that I absolutely hate when he does that!

"Get away from me!" I snapped at him, swatting his hands away.

"He's upset about Lizzie," Antonio whispered dramatically. His eyes were like huge green plates.

"I am not!" I snarled at both of them, and chewed viciously on another fry.

They bought me ice cream later, which Antonio doused with vodka (don't try that at home. In fact, don't try that. Ever.) to help me "relieve the stress." It was nice of them, but I threw it away when they weren't looking; Anything at all that smelled like or tasted like vodka made me want to barf.

Beer was just fine for me.

xx

**Time: 2:28 PM**

**Place: Stairwell of the A block (which is like a wing) of Atlas High School**

My little Spanish airhead of a friend was completely wasted when we went to our fourth period, the last one of the day. (Our school runs on block schedule.) It happened to be on the math wing of the school—which was at the very top of the A block. Three. Fucking. Flights. Of. Stairs.

Three fucking flights of stairs + one very drunk Spanish kid = sore shoulders for me.

"Hahaha, Gilbo, where're we goin'?" he slurred in my ear, and giggled some more (really scary much?). "There are so many stairsh…"

I readjusted my grip on Antonio's arm. "Shut up," I told him. "Don't wanna smell any more of that kinky tomato-vodka mix."

"But it tastes good!" he whined annoyingly.

"No; whoever the hell thought tomatoes and vodka went together is a fucking idiot." I dragged him up the last couple steps and walked into our math classroom. There weren't many people around; most kids, despite the 10 minute passing period, had already gone to class and were probably cramming homework in the last couple minutes before the bell rings. And plus, everyone hates going up three flights of stairs to the third floor.

Antonio burped and giggled weakly. "Buono tomato, buono tomato, buono, buono, ooh! Tomato!" he sang drunkenly, and I whacked him upside the head with my textbook.

"Idioten," I muttered in German under my breath, and threw him and his stuff in his seat. He could rely on Arthur to get him home; there was no way I was taking the drunk kid anywhere in my car. _Don't you dare get your nasty vodka shit on my Volkswagen._

It was halfway through the teacher droning on and on about trig that Antonio leaned over to me and whispered, "I don't feel well."

It was true. He really did look under the weather, with a pale face and still stinking-breath. He also looked like he was going to puke any second now.

I promptly raised my hand, like a little goody two-shoes.

The next thing I knew, Antonio's lunch was out in the stairwell—which, luckily, is tiled floor. When he was done, he just collapsed on the ground.

Great. Now I had to fix this.

Tony had gotten in trouble before for drinking at school (you would not believe how much the guy loved alcohol. I mean, Arthur and Ivan and Luddy are all kind of notorious for drinking, too, but Tony is just… disgusting.) so there was no way I could take him to the nurse's. The stench of vodka was horrible. And very strong. I was really tempted to leave him lying there (God knows I've had to put up with vodka all fucking day) but I still needed my little Spanish airhead around. Problem was, there was really only one good place to take him.

_Verdammt,_ Tony.

I dragged Antonio down three flights of stairs and out the door, praying to God that I wouldn't get caught by hall sweeps—the people whose only job is to walk around looking for kids who were ditching class. Even if I did have a pass, though, I was still heading outside (big no-no around here) and Tony still stank of vodka. And if he got caught, he'd probably get suspended again. Thus not being able to go to Homecoming.

Antonio still passed out on my shoulder, I ended up having to drag him into my Ride of Awesomeness. It was a hand-me-down from my dad and kind of old and red and worn down but that only added to its awesomeness. And my awesomeness.

"Tony, I am going to kill you when I'm through with this," I grumbled as I threw him into the back seat. _Dear God. Why do I always end up having to save my drunk friends' asses? If you'll excuse the profanity._

(Yes, I do talk to God on a regular basis. He's my bro. I tell him everything.)

I was about to close the car door when something hit me. Mentally. An idea. I could still smell today's lunch on Tony's breath (which stank enough already). And I didn't want my ride to get ruined. So when I left to go back to the school, Antonio was lying on his side in the backseat, a plastic bag duct-taped to his face. That way, if he threw up again, the puke would go right into the bag.

Awesome mad genius right there.

x-x

The oddest thing was that as I was climbing the staircase back to math class, I saw Lizzie. (That wasn't even the oddest part, but for now. Let's just stick with this.)

Now, me and Lizzie, we usually avoided each other in school, since she pretty much hated me (whenever she wasn't drink that is. Usually, when she got really drunk, she'd come over to me and try to wrestle with me like we did when were kids. Yeah. I know.) and took advantage of any and every opportunity to hit me with a frying pan. I don't even know how she got that thing to fit in her handbag or whatever, but I swear to God it _hurt like hell_. Especially if I said anything about Roderich, that uptight OCD obsessed-with-Chopin douche of all douches.

A very good reason to avoid her, particularly because she was always hanging around that obnoxious prick anyway.

But the really, really odd part was that Lizzie was… crying.

I know, right? LIZZIE IS THAT ONE PERSON WHO JUST NEVER CRIES. I thought that Antonio's mix of tomato juice and vodka was finally getting into my brain and I was seeing things. No, I was definitely seeing things. Crying for the second time in less than a week? Wow. She'd become more girly than I thought. Roderich had really gotten to her.

I pinched myself. Nope, not a dream.

She really was crying in the stairwell.

"Mein Gott," I muttered under my breath, but she seemed to hear me cuz she looked up.

"Gilbert?" she said shakily.

"Uh… yeah… um…. Your awesomeness at your service," I said, saluting goofily.

She laughed, and I thought there was a little jump in my chest.

"Oh, Gilbert," she said, wiping tears from her face. "You always show up when I need you."

"What, when you need to hit someone with a frying pan?" I sat down next to her. "Like that time when we were all kids and I tricked Roddy into taking his pants off so I could steal them? He was all 'you have my vital regions!' and you came after me with that frying pan you stole from your mom, remember?"

She laughed, and I laughed too. "I don't always need you to hit," she said.

"Well, of course," I said, aware of the stupidity leaving my mouth every second. "I'm your best friend, right?"

She hesitated for a second, and then glanced away, wiping her face on her sleeve. "Yeah."

"You okay?" I asked her, leaning forward to get a better look. (She was totally crying.)

"To be honest… no. I'm not." She sniffed.

"I'm sorry…." Yeah… even she knew how lame that sounded.

"Don't be," she said, wiping her face. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Hey," I said. "Hey… it's okay." I awkwardly patted her shoulder. "It's okay."

She looked at me suddenly. "Gilbert, I…"

"Elizaveta!" A voice sounded behind us, and I craned my neck to see who was talking.

It happened to be a brunet boy with rectangular glasses and annoyingly fancy clothes. He was standing at the top of the staircase, arms crossed, purple eyes looking down at me condescendingly. Me, of course. Not Lizzie. _Cuz they were still going out, dammit!_

I took my hand away from Lizzie's shoulder. "Oh," I said. "Hello, cousin."

"Gilbert," said Roderich tersely. "It's a pleasant surprise."

_Yeah, right. And Antonio hates tomatoes. And Heracles doesn't have a gazillion cats._ "Yeah, good to see you too, Roddy. What are you doing here?" I crossed my arms, but then I realized that was exactly what Roddy was doing, so I shoved my hands in my pockets instead. _Oh, spare change… Wonder how much is in there? Argh, focus, Gilbo!_

Roderich raised an eyebrow. "I'm here to take Elizaveta back to class. C'mon, let's go," he added to her, gesturing for her to come with him.

Her expression was unreadable as she stood up to go walk up to him. I set my jaw. _Dammit, Lizzie. Damn _you,_ Roderich._

"You ought to get back to class, too, Gilbert," said Roderich, ever the goody two-shoes.

"Yeah, but unlike you," I said, waving a little yellow slip of paper in the air, "I have a pass."

He frowned. No good comebacks, apparently.

"Well, I'll get going if you _really _want," I said with a slight mocking edge—the guy had that effect on me—and started up the stairs. "I have to get back to math anyway, so I'll see you around? Oh wait—I can't. Sorry, Roddy. You aren't getting any awesomeness today. See ya."

I left the little couple where they were.


	4. tuesday morning

**Time: 08:15 AM**

**Place: Atlas High School, 1****st**** Period German class. I shit you not.**

First period I have German class.

I'm already fluent in German, so it's basically a blow-off class for me, and it's awesome. I ace all my tests without even trying. And I sit in the back. Next to my brother's fuck buddy—no, I'm just kidding, but they're getting there—Feliciano Vargas.

Feli is this really adorable kid. He's shorter than me, but not by too much. He's younger than me, by about a year, since he's a sophomore like Luddy. He's not really super-toned or skinny, or super obese. He's kind of in the middle. Slim, but still kind of squishy and therefore still fun to poke (God, so much fun. Almost too much. Whenever he comes over to our house to "study with Luddy" I have to lock myself away in my room or I'll be poking and squishing and petting him the second he walks in to the second he steps out. He doesn't mind too much though). He has pale skin, which is weird, since he's Italian, and you would think that all Italians would be as orange as Antonio, seeing how it's always sunny there. But Feli's from north Italy. Or something. Which is why he's pale. It's not a bad thing. I'm pale too. Paler than he is, even.

He's got reddish-brown hair and nice brown eyes. He's just over all an adorable kid. It's not like I'm gay for him or anything, it's just… HE'S SO FUCKING ADORABLE. And he and Luddy make the best couple ever. Even if they're gay. But still. Adorable.

And his personality's adorable too. He's always smiling and happy and bubbly and sometimes says "Vehh~" every once in a while (read: every five seconds) but it's still adorable. I'd trust that kid with my—well, maybe not my life, since he's dead clumsy, but with a bunch of other things. Like Gilbird, my pet canary chick.

Yeah. I love this kid. I take almost every opportunity to hang out with him, just because his happiness is just so damn contagious.

And I get to sit next to him in German class. I'm not sure why Feli's taking German at all, but it's probably because of Ludwig, ha. Most of the time I'm not sure Feli even knows the difference between a noun and a verb. Ludwig usually tutors him. At his house or at our house. They talk a lot. (_Mein Gott,_ those two are adorable.)

Ahem. Anyway.

We were sitting in the back. No one was doing anything. We never do anything in German class, the teacher is crap. Most of the time she's outside somewhere, smoking. Or in the teacher's lounge. Or if she is in our class at all, she's usually not teaching. She lets us "study independently." And of course everyone else uses that as an excuse to talk and hang out.

Right now she wasn't in the classroom, so basically it was a party. Someone had decided to bring their iPod speakers and was blasting some random music out in the room. Katy Perry, I think? Or maybe Ke$ha. Whatever it was, it was annoying pop crap. The kind of crap that's okay and you actually like it the first couple times you listen to it, and then you get sick of after. People were dancing to it, though, dressed in flashy colors and flinging shiny bead necklaces everywhere (Mardi Gras Tuesday. Homecoming Spirit Weeks tend to make people a little bit crazy). I was pretty sure we were going to get yelled at after 25 minutes into the period, but I guess everyone was being all laid back, since it was Homecoming and everything.

Me? I was just tired. I don't think I got any sleep after what happened yesterday. _Dammit, Roddy._

I was nodding off when Feliciano poked me. "Gilbert? Are you okay?"

"What?" I yawned hugely, which caused Feli to yawn hugely too. "Oh… I'm just tired."

"Ahh… you should get more sleep, Gilbert," said Feliciano cheerfully. "Sometimes, on weekends, I sleep till 2 in the afternoon!"

"Ahhh you lazy Italian," I teased him, ruffling his hair. He has really nice hair. Not nearly as nice as Lizzie's but enough that I could pat him for like, ever.

He smiled at me. (He has the most adorable smile ever. Such a cute kid.) "So why didn't you get any sleep last night?"

I stopped for a second. Feli was one of my good friends. But I usually didn't tell most of my other good friends (Mathias, Arthur, Tony, Francis, Alfred) about stuff like… Lizzie… because they'd usually make fun of me. (Cue example: yesterday at lunch.) It always happened. Like that one time where Arthur hooked up with Francis. Alfred and Mattie had a complete field day with that, it was scary. I'm not sure if they ever did that again, since they never said anything about it again—not even Francis, who always tended to brag about his conquests—just because Alfred and Mattie had so much fun with it. Arthur was pretty much scarred for life.

But Feli was different. I got the feeling that he wouldn't do that. He was too nice of a kid.

I leaned in close to him. "Well, yesterday… some stuff happened."

His eyes got all big. "Veh?"

And I told him the whole story about Lizzie. All of it. It all kind of spilled out of my mouth and I felt like I was reliving the whole damn thing over again.

"…but she's still going out with Roderich. I know she is." I rubbed my face. "The whole hookup was a fluke. She doesn't even like me, _verdammt._"

Feliciano was thoughtful for a moment. "No, I don't think that's true. Lizzie likes you."

"Yeah," I snorted. "And you hate pasta."

"I don't hate pasta!" he wails indignantly. "Pasta is the food I turn to when I feel sad!"

I looked at him dubiously. "You feel sad?"

He turned really red. "Sometimes when Ludwig forgets to help me with German homework…"

(NOW AREN'T THESE TWO JUST ADORABLE)

I patted him lightly on the back. "It's okay."

"What were we talking about again?" he asked me.

I closed my eyes. "Elizaveta fucking Hedervary. She hates me… I don't even know."

He cringed a little bit at my swear, but looked at me. "I don't think Elizaveta hates you, Gilbert."

I rolled my head back so I was looking at the ceiling. I wasn't going to say it again, but I didn't believe that. She hated me, she'd told me that a lot. Especially around Roderich. Mostly it was because I was always pulling pranks on the guy, but he was asking for it. He just was. And they were going out. Of course she hated me.

But even the alternative—that girl not hating me—made sense, too. She'd kissed me on Saturday and had been straight-up acting funny all week. Why couldn't she just hit me with a frying pan so things could go back to normal?

"I'm pretty sure she likes you," Feli continued.

"As a friend, maybe." I blinked at the fluorescent lights. "Not in _that_ way."

Feli shook his head. "No. She definitely likes you."

This week was just getting weirder and weirder. I mean, I knew Feliciano and Lizzie were really good friends, but she wouldn't have told him… No, she wouldn't.

"She talks about you a lot! And she talks about your band too!" The cute little Italian beamed at me. "And she smiles a lot when she talks about you, too! And she turns red and everything!"

_Smiles a lot when she talks about me. _What universe had I landed in? Sheesh.

"That's not possible," I said, and opened my German textbook, pretending to be interested in German verbs.

Even then, my hands were shaky, and my shirt collar suddenly felt too warm. I pulled out my iPod, hoping it would make things better, but no.

_Verdammt, Lizzie._

x-x

**Time: 10:02 AM**

**Place: Practice Room 7 in the Band Hallway**

"Dude, what happened to you?" Mathias spun his drumsticks around his fingers. "You, like, suck."

"We all do," remarked Arthur dryly.

"Yeah, whatever," said Mathias. "But Gilbo keeps messing up. A lot. And his singing sucks."

"It always does," said Arthur.

"Yeah. But more than usual."

"Shut up!" I growled at them.

"Tomatoes are the balls of God… hehehehe!" Antonio smiled dreamily.

"What's he been drinking?" I asked Mattie. He shrugged, but snatched Antonio's monogrammed thermos (oh, rich kids) and took a sniff of what was inside.

"Absinthe," he pronounced.

We all groaned. I took a step away from the microphone and slapped Antonio as hard as I could.

"Sting! The scorpion of life!" He toppled over the speaker that he was sitting on.

So what the hell was I doing in a practice room with a drunk Spaniard, a cranky Brit, and an annoying Dane?

We had a band. Arthur, the musical genius, started it when he showed up on my doorstep and asked me to play bass. I told him that as long as he let me their (awesome) lead singer, sure. Then Arthur dragged Mathias—who played percussion in band—along, too. And we sucked. Arthur said we needed another guitar, and we couldn't find another until Antonio walked by and offered.

Then Tony and I had to switch when it was found out that even as awesome as I was, I couldn't play bass and sing at the same time.

It was around this year that Arthur decided that we should try out for Homecoming. And since he was pretty much the boss, we let him. Except we had to come up with a name. No one could think of any. So then Arthur was just like "Fine. We'll honor all of our respective countries by naming the band 'The Kingdom.'" It was a good name and we were always too lazy to change it.

Then Arthur got us a gig for Homecoming. It was awesome. Except we still sucked.

"Okay, but seriously, man," said Mathias. "Why _do _you suck?"

"It's none of your business! You still need to work on the intro cuz it's horribly off! And you!" I said, turning to Antonio. "You always screw up the chords on the beginning!"

"Rainbow shitcakes are pie's bros…" The Spaniard giggled—obviously still drunk.

"AND STOP FUCKING BEING DRUNK, OKAY?" I threw the microphone at him.

"Uh, Gilbert—"

"Yeah, Arthur," I snapped at him. "And you need to stop hogging the show with your guitar skills. Yes, you are good, but _I'm _the one singing here, okay? You go ahead and own your intros and guitar solos and that's IT."

They stared at me.

"Wow," said Arthur. "For once Gilbert's the serious one getting on everyone's case about how much they suck."

"I know, right?" Mathias twirled his drumsticks some more. "I bet you it's all that lovey-dovey-ness that's changing Gilbo…"

"_What lovey-dovey-ness?_" Unfortunately, the image of Lizzie popped up in my head again.

"What, you mean with Elizaveta? Gilbo's liked her for ages now." Arthur took his guitar up again and played a couple classic rock riffs.

"Wait, what? Seriously?" Mathias leaned forward on his drum stool, peering at Arthur from over his bass drum. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" I said. I was on the other side of the room now, picking up the mike I'd thrown. "And how did you know that I liked Lizzie?"

"So you do!" Arthur smirked. "I am fucking brilliant."

The microphone flew through the space where his head had been.

"Niiiice, bro!" Mathias did a little drumroll with a clash to end with it. "Nice going!"

"Look, can you just shut up and count off? We need to practice!"

"Yeah, yeah yeah," he said with an annoying smirk on his face. "Let's go."

And we launched into our set.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note~<strong>

I am going to finish this story! A chapter every two days at the latest! YEAH!

There must always be someone drunk in every chapter of this story. Usually it's Antonio. Lol. No offense to him; I love Spain. 3 His reaction to the absinthe is somewhat based off the _How I Met Your Mother _episode where Lily and Robin cross-reference every possible alcoholic drink and their effects on everyone. Hilarious.

Prussia / N. Italy: I always picture them as like, bros, with Prussia doting on Italy and Italy sort of sucking up to Prussia. Not that Italy tries to, it's just what they do. Although I feel like Prussia is a little bit OOC in this story… ah well.

DefyGravity2502: More (barely) recognizable parts of Atlas High School, lol


	5. wednesday night

**Time: 09:24 PM**

**Place: My house. In my room.**

Nobody answered when I went inside my house that night. Ludwig was probably at Feli's house, and the note on the kitchen table confirmed my suspicions.

I yawned. Today had been so tiring. This fucking _week_ had been so tiring.

My friends were going to be the death of me someday… I mean, I did like going out and hanging out with them. They were my bros. But seriously. There's only so much crap I can take in one day.

Luckily, I'd managed to avoid Lizzie today in school. I don't even know what would happen if I saw her today. Especially on Pirates Versus Ninjas day. Arthur, as usual, went as a pirate. He can be kind of scary that way.

Really scary.

He just walked into Physics that day with a pirate costume. The full works—eye-patch, feathered hat, one of those fancy things that Roddy always wears—what was it? A cravat?—and boots. Oh, and a fake plastic sword. Or, well, it was supposed to be fake. I didn't really get that feeling.

Then he tried to start a fight with Francis. He kept swinging his sword around going "Arr! Don't you dare cower away from me, frog!" and some other… colorful… comments. He was so into it that I wondered if he was Blackbeard or something in a past life. As for what Francis was doing? I don't even know. It was so scary that I just put my head down and went to sleep.

Of course, it didn't help that Antonio also dressed up as a pirate. And he was also extremely scary when he was a pirate. Like, really scary. I almost don't want to get into it. But he went all conquistador on me and Francis and started asking me where the gold was. Then he said a bunch of random shit in Spanish and started writing with a _quill_ instead of a pencil like a normal person would.

It's like they became different fucking people when they put on pirate costumes. I might have done so too, but I woke up kind of late that day, so I barely had enough time to throw on some clothes and grab a Pop-tart before the bus came. Of course Luddy was up thirty minutes before the bus came and was calmly enjoying coffee when I went downstairs. Of course he didn't get me any and I had to buy some at school.

Of course life sometimes has to hate me.

I threw myself on my bed, burying my face into my pillow. It would be so easy for me to just close my eyes and sleep right now. I'd just gotten home from band practice at Arthur's house—thankfully, he and Antonio had taken the pirate costumes off—and he'd drilled us way hard. I didn't have any energy to yell at anyone else again, so it was a relief for me when Antonio showed up sober, being his cheerful, perky self. The song that we were practicing kept playing through my head. It was a great song. It's just sometimes you've heard it so much that you just want to kill yourself because you're so damn sick of it.

I needed some caffeine, so I rolled off my bed and dragged myself downstairs. Hopefully Luddy didn't take all of the coffee mix when he made some for himself this morning.

When I got back to my room, my phone was lit up and buzzing. A text from Francis.

_Oh boy. _Texts from Francis were always scary.

**Francis:** hey tomorrows pj day school, right?

Where was he going with this? I frowned and texted back yeah, y?

Two seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

**Francis:** So we wear our pjs right?

The feeling of dread inside me grew a little bit more.

**Gilbert: **Uh yeah…?

**Francis:** I dont usually wear n e thing to sleep. does that mean i should show up naked?

I banged my head on my desk. Was the guy fucking serious?

I began typing.

**Gilbert**: no you perverted Idioten!

**Francis: **ok just checking ;) ill *try* not to do tht tmrrw

I put my phone down and rubbed my head. Couldn't I just get some peace and quiet for once? I mean, I loved my bros and I did like going out and chilling with them but sometimes they just _got_ to me too much. And it didn't help that my head was hurting. And that Lizzie was acting all confusingly. I rested my chin on my desk. Maybe I should call Feliciano. Oh wait. No, Ludwig was at his house "studying for that Geometry test tomorrow." I smirked slightly. I should probably leave them alone. Besides, what if Feli's brother Lovino picked up the phone? Oh god. The kid swore like it was a second language for him. More annoying people screaming in my ear was totally not what I wanted.

Uggggh. My head really hurt. I considered going back downstairs to get some aspirin, but I was too lazy to.

"_Peep, peep._"

There was a soft chirping behind me, and Gilbird fluttered onto my desk.

I smiled. "Hey, awesome."

He pecked my hand lightly a couple times, and I reached into a drawer and fed him some birdseed.

Gilbird had been a present from my Uncle Fritz, a birthday gift from the last year. (What? I'm pretty damn sure every sixteen-year-old boy wants a pet canary for their birthday. I mean, I did.) And often times I felt like Gilbird was the only person (bird?) that I could trust at all.

Agh. Okay, I didn't say that. The incredibly awesome me did not just admit that his best friend was a canary. A canary chick.

It just goes to show you how crazy this week was driving me. I mean, how this week was driving me crazy. Halfway through the week and already I needed more sleep. And more caffeine—I took a gulp of coffee to prove it. Needless to say, it didn't exactly clear my head.

I sighed. Might as well start my homework.

…

Okay, you know that I have officially gone insane once I decide to start my _homework._ Especially for US History, the stupidest subject ever. I could half-understand why I needed math and science, in case I ever wanted to work as an engineer (ha-ha, NOT) and but US History? No one gave a damn about the Revolutionary War—which, come to think of it, had gotten Alfred a bit down in class that day we went over it. Huh. Just a little wei—

_Buzzzzzzzzzz. Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

Francis with another text already? Gilbird fluttered onto my shoulder like he wanted to read the text, too, and I picked up my phone and checked the display lazily. Then I did a double take.

**Elizaveta Hedervary.**

Um. What? Was this girl _purposely_ trying to torture me? I swear, this was worse than the time when Toris and Feliks ganged up on me that one time. (Yeah, let's not go there.)

I tapped the screen and the text showed up. Gilbird chirped in my ear.

**Elizaveta: **Hey gil! help me w german hw pls?

I frowned. Yes, I was awesome enough at German that I could pass the class in my sleep, but why didn't she ask someone else? Like Roddy? I mean, he knew German as well as Luddy and I did. And they were going out.

**Gilbert: **what about Roddy?

My phone buzzed again almost immediately.

**Elizaveta: **he's at a piano competition. my rents wouldnt let me go c him so im at my place rite now. n e way, hlp?

I sighed. I guess she couldn't really ask anyone else, with all her friends being in other languages. I think Bella was in French? Mei was doing Latin, and so was Lili… _Agh, Gilbo, focus!_

**Gilbert: **ok sure

**Elizaveta: **all right im coming over

I nearly dropped my phone. She was coming over? _What? _I mean, I knew her place was only a 5-minute walk away from my house, but really? It must've been pretty urgent. Or maybe she wasn't allowed to Skype. Agh, thank God that Luddy was at Feli's house tonight. Then he wouldn't've have been able to walk in on my video chat.

Oh jeez. I wasn't sure I could even do that with her nowadays. Skype, that is. Even if Luddy didn't walk in randomly, I'd have to clean my room and—

Oh. _Scheiße. Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße._

The kitchen. Our parents hadn't been home for a while since they were away on a business trip, so Luddy and I had been using it. And not cleaning it. Well, usually Luddy would clean it, but I didn't think he wanted to waste the effort cleaning any part of the house other than his room since I would mess it up two seconds after he was done cleaning. His room was probably the only neat spot at all in this building.

_Scheiße._ I bolted downstairs to the kitchen and began throwing random shit into the cabinets—Chinese takeout cartons, plates, potatoes, jars of pickles. I stuck the funky-smelling milk back into the fridge. I stuck most of the dirty plates in the sink into the dishwasher and cleared everything that was on the table off into the pantry. Okay. Kitchen down, rest of the fucking house to go.

Living room was worse, though. Game controllers were all over the floor, along with CDs, CD cases, and dirty socks (probably Luddy's; from the look of it, it was _way _too big for my feet). Random chip bags and a pair of old running shorts (also Luddy's… I think) were thrown on the couch. I even spotted a stray bag of popcorn and popped some into my mouth. Hm. A bit chew, but all right.

_Ding-dong_.

I froze mid-chew. _Scheiße!_

The walk to the door felt a million miles long, my feet pounding to the chanting of _Scheiße! Scheiße! Alles ist Scheiße!_

I opened the door.

Damn.

Have I told anyone how much I love V-necks? No? Well, I love V-necks. V-necks are awesome. They are the best thing since sliced bread. And wurst. And potatoes. And me with all my awesomeness. But still. _V-necks._

"Hi Gilbert." Lizzie grinned at me.

I tore my eyes away from her shirt (cough) and looked at her face. "Oh, hi. Uh, come in."

She settled down at the kitchen table. "Have anything to eat? I haven't had dinner yet."

"Yeah, me neither," I said, and opened a cabinet. A dozen potatoes flew out, one of them hitting me smack in the face.

Great.

"Gilbert?" Lizzie looked at me.

I wiped some potato shit off my face and gave her an awesome, award-winning smile. "I'm cool."

Then I opened another cabinet.

So, apparently, Ludwig bought us pasta sauce. I didn't ever remember this, although most of the time I don't go with him when he goes grocery shopping. It was probably for that one time Feliciano slept over at our house, and everyone knows the kid eats nothing but pasta, so Ludwig probably used it to make spaghetti. And apparently, one of us left the pasta sauce jar open in the last couple days, because when I opened the cabinet, it fell over and sauce spilled all over my head. I was the walking pasta-sauce monster, rawr! (No. It wasn't a good thing so DON'T LAUGH.)

I stood there for one stunned second.

Then I started cursing the pasta sauce gods. And the cabinet gods. And God.

(Well, I wasn't cursing him. I'd never curse him. He was my bro. Bros don't curse each other. But I was complaining.)

_Dear God. Why does this stuff _always _happen to me at the worst times? Can't I ever get a break here and be awesome like I usually am?_

Twenty minutes later, Lizzie and I were going over irregular verbs and random pronoun shit. I had a towel over my head. My dripping wet head. I probably looked like Gupta when he was walking around with his head covering thing.

"Ugh… now that's finally done." Lizzie stretched and yawned. "I want something to drink. Got anything?"

I went to the fridge. "Um… funky-smelling milk?"

She made a face. "I'll pass."

"Yeah, thought so… um…" I blinked. "We don't really have anything except beer."

"That's fine with me."

I handed her a bottle and got one for myself.

"Hey, Gilbo?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go outside."

So we did. There we were. Lying down on the grass, both a little bit buzzed from the beer. You could actually see the stars that night—there weren't too many clouds.

"Look, the Big Dipper." I traced it in the air with my finger.

I felt her smile in the darkness. There was a slight pause as we stared up at the sky.

"Gilbert?" Her voice floated through the air.

"Yeah?"

"Why do you hate Roderich so much?"

Unexpected. Very unexpected. But I guess, since they were going out, she would naturally want to know. I tried to fight the feelings of annoyance and answer.

"Well," I said, wriggling a little bit in the grass, trying to get more comfortable, "I don't really know… I think it might just be the fact that we're cousins. I mean, I don't _really _hate him like I do with other people"—here I frowned at the thought of a specific Russian boy—"but there's just something about him that has always rubbed me the wrong way. And it's wicked fun to screw with him," I added with a grin.

She laughed, and my stomach fluttered.

And then it was silent again, but different this time. Tenser. Less awesome. She seemed a little bit sadder, too.

"Hey, is everything okay with you and Roddy?" I looked over at her, and she had such a miserable look on her face it hurt. And I wasn't so completely dense that I didn't know how to sense the mood.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up," I said quickly, but she shook her head.

"It's not okay," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "It's really not."

I rolled on to my side to look at her as she continued talking.

"I haven't told anyone this, but… I feel like we're growing apart. That's all. And … he's still a great guy. Don't get me wrong."

My stomach twisted slightly at the statement.

"But I just don't feel like I really love him at all anymore. I still like him as a person, it's just I don't really want to be with him anymore. But I don't want to hurt his feelings."

She rubbed her eyes slightly. "What do I do, Gilbert? Tell me what to do. You're my best friend. Tell me."

I didn't know what to say. Inside of my head was this huge battle: one part of me wanted to tell her to ditch the poor sap and choose me instead—who couldn't resist the awesomeness? But this other, goody two shoes side of me that I was pretty sure was actually Uncle Fritz talking in my head, was like _leave them alone. This is their issue and they need to work it out themselves._

"I don't know, Lizzie."

And I didn't. I really didn't know at all.

Only the gut feeling that gave me a small spark of hope. Lizzie could like me. She _could _like me.

She didn't hate me.

I felt like that week wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note ~<strong>

I PLANNED ALL OF THIS IN ONE NIGHT! AREN'T YOU ALL PROUD OF ME? XD Anyway, this chapter is a bit more serious…. It turned out a little longer than I expected but that's okay, right? I would have TOTALLY posted this yesterday, except FF was being kind of stupid and it wouldn't upload. D: But today it works, so enjoy ;) Hopefully this story will finish up this week, depending on my muse… and believe me, it can be pretty fickle :/

Reviews are what keep me going. I love you all. Less than three, broskis. Less than three.

*Hopefully you guys know what _Scheiße _is. (It's German for 'shit.' Thus, _Alles ist Scheiße _means 'all is shit.')

*The idea for Pirates vs. Ninjas day came from this one Orchestra Spirit Week thing. It was really fun, except it didn't make it to the final list, so I brought it here. :) That's right, I am an orch dork. Deal with it. :D

*The idea for Francis attempting to show up naked for PJ day belongs to DefyGravity2502. JE T'ADORE, MON AMIE!


	6. thursday afternoon

**Time: 02:56 PM**

**Place: My house. **

That day, I decided to ditch. I felt a little bit bad about skipping band practice, since we really needed it, but I knew Artie, as bossy as he was, would reschedule an afterschool practice.

I hadn't really done much that day—sleep till noon, eat lunch of wurst and instant ramen (Kiku got me completely hooked on the stuff. I mean, it's amazing. And incredibly unhealthy.), nap, chill. Although my dream was kind of weird. Uncle Fritz had come in my room with a birthday cake telling me that it was someones birthday, but I couldn't figure out who it was. So I asked Gilbird and he told me to look at the ceiling. I told him he was being stupid; there's nothing on my bedroom ceiling, but then Lizzie fell from the ceiling wearing a ridiculously sexy maid outfit and cat ears. She took her apron off and then put her hand in my back pocket, and it was really weird since it was all warm and vibrate-y, like a phone.

Then I woke up to find out that Antonio was texting me from history class about where I was. Also about how Arthur was more pissed than usual. And how Francis tried to show up naked to school. In the end, I think they had to give him an old gym uniform. Poor sucker. He probably strutted around in ugly blue shorts like he was in a fashion show and looked like an idiot. (Man, I really hoped someone got pictures of that.) Then he added some random shit about how he missed me. And said a bunch of things in Spanish, which was annoying. When was he ever gonna learn that I didn't understand any goddamn Spanish?

It was basically a lot of texts from him to get me to come to school. But there was no way I could go now, right? I'd already called myself in as sick. (I do the most awesome impressions of my dad. So awesome that Luddy cracks half a smile.)

No. I wasn't really in the mood to go to school that day. Even though I felt bad about leaving Feliciano all alone in German class, and missing out on throwing spitballs at the back of Monica's head during US History class. Honestly, that girl was so uptight that she was practically on her knees begging to be hit. The detention we got afterwards was so completely worth it. (But even then all Alfred and I did was text under our desks while the teacher fell asleep grading papers.)

Nope. I missed out on all of it. But it was good to have a break. Chances were that we weren't actually going to do anything in German class. Or any other class, for that matter. No, the only thing I was really worried about was Artie's little temper tantrum later today. Oh well.

My phone buzzed again. I checked the time. They would be out of school now. Little goody two-shoes.

**Arthur: **My house. Bring your guitar. 4:00 precisely. Don't be late.

I snorted. Only _that _Brit would text with proper spelling and punctuation. The boy obviously had control issues. And he also didn't know about reverse psychology.

Of course I was going to be late. I was always late.

xx

**Time: 4:08 PM**

**Place: Kirkland residence. Or, well, their garage.**

Everyone else was already there when I walked up the driveway to the Kirkland's open three-car garage.

"Gilbert!" chorused Antonio and Mathias in unison. "You're here!"

"Artie!" I cried out, ignoring both of them. "Long time no see!"

"Yes, considering that you weren't even at school today, a very long time," he retorted.

"The awesome me can't just walk in on time. He's got to make an _entrance._" I leaned against one of their cars. "So what's up?"

Arthur's face turned a little bit pale. "Um, I wouldn't—"

"Hey, you." A teenager with auburn hair and green eyes like Artie's stood in the doorway, glaring at me. The smell of cigarettes hung around him heavily and in his hand he had a glass of scotch. "Get your bloody arse off my car."

Arthur had the worst luck ever. He has three older brothers. Wait, no. Make that three older brothers and one older sister. In order from oldest to youngest, they were: Erin and her twin brother Liam, Daren, and Ian. The oldest three were off at college at the moment, which had to make things a little bit better, but Ian was still a senior in high school, a year older than us. He was by far the meanest to Arthur. Sometimes I wondered how Ian could do the stuff he did to Artie. I mean, I loved Luddy. I don't think I'd ever give him a scarecrow for Christmas if he'd once had a traumatizing experience with them when he was five. Guess that's where Arthur gets his attitude from.

"Ian," said Arthur, with a strangled expression on his face.

"Nah, I got this," I told him.

"I said," Ian snarled, still standing in the doorway. "Get. Your. Bloody. Arse. Off. My. Car."

"Sorry, bro," I said casually, not moving an inch. "I was just infusing your car with some of my awesomeness."

He cocked a thick brow—a common trait in the Kirkland family. "My car doesn't need any of your bloody awesomeness."

I snorted. "Oh, believe me. It does."

And it did. It was blue and old and falling apart. I mean, my car was old, too. But it wasn't on the verge of collapsing any second, like Ian's car.

Ian tossed the scotch into his throat, and looked at me. "You wanna prove that?"

I grinned. "Try me."

He let out an indignant snort and glanced back at Arthur. "Why do you keep bringing your little friends over here? First Alfred—"

"That was for a bloody English project!"

"—and then you bring these gits over in our garage to create a racket for our neighbors. Our parents are going to kill us." Ian shook his head slowly. "Can't your silly little band find somewhere else to practice?"

"Our 'silly little band' got into the lineup for Homecoming, and there's no other place to practice," Arthur snapped back.

"Ha!" Ian chortled. "I'm still laughing about that. You guys suck shit! How'd they even let you audition?"

"Shut up, you barmy old codger. It's not like _you _can do any better."

I stifled a snort. Barmy old codger? I didn't think I'd ever get used to British expressions.

"You're such an arrogant little wanker," said Ian lazily.

"Don't say that," I said. "You're not even half as awesome as I am. I don't think you have a right to say that."

Before I could say anything else, a familiar, obnoxious _French_ voice yelled out behind me.

"Ian! Long time, no see, _cheri!_"

Francis came up behind me, nearly knocking me over, and went straight to Ian, giving him a big hug. Oddly enough, Ian kind of hugged him back. Which was really odd.

Arthur's mood instantly went from bad to worse.

"Who the bloody fuck invited _him?_" He gave me a death glare. "And why's he so chummy with Ian?"

I threw my hands up, deciding to answer the first question. "Wasn't me." About the second thing Arthur said? Well, I had a vague hunch that sometime in the last year or so, Francis had hooked up with Ian. I had a vague hunch that in the last year or so, Francis had hooked up with everyone.

Arthur's glanced flicked over to Antonio, who shrugged.

Ian, in the meantime, was still staring at the driveway. "Bloody fuck," he muttered.

I glanced that way, too, and did a double take.

There were a LOT of people heading up the drive. It was like a _horde._ I saw Alfred with his awesome stepbrother Matthew (who made the best fucking pancakes in the world); Bella and her scary older brother Jager and her younger sister Lux; Sadik, with his high-and-mighty grin, along with Heracles and his brigade of cats; Luddy, with Feliciano wrapped around his torso and Lovino in tow, grumbling an endless stream of curses; Mathias's friends Berwald and Tino; Kiku and Leon, being dragged along by Mei and that annoying Korean kid (what was his name again? Yong Soo?); and best of all, giggling with her new friend from Seychelles, Lizzie.

After my stomach did a couple dozen cartwheels, I turned to Antonio with a death glare. "What. Did. You. Do?"

He shrugged again. "I told them it was a low-key jam sesh and they could bring whoever they wanted."

Arthur exploded. "Jam session? This is _band practice, Antonio! We don't need people walking in while we suck!"_

"They're already here, though," Mathias pointed out. "It wouldn't hurt to give them a little bit of a show," he added, grinning wickedly.

"Like what?" I said. "We don't know that many songs."

"Lollipop," whispered Tony, so the "audience" wouldn't hear.

"I don't want candy!" Arthur raged.

"No, _Lollipop_," he repeated.

A split-second pause.

"By Lil' Wayne?" said Arthur with clear disgust.

"No, the Framing Hanley cover. A cover of a cover." Tony grinned.

Mathias looked thoughtful. "You know, that's actually a good one! Although it's really inappropriate."

"But we're not in school anyway," I pointed out.

Arthur considered it for a brief second. "Okay. Fine."

We plugged our instruments in to the amps, and I flicked the mike on.

"Hey, testing, one, two, I am awesome."

A couple nervous laughs. I grinned. "Okay, well, hey guys. We're The Kingdom, and um… hope we rock your afternoon." I glanced back at Mathias and nodded. He tapped his drumsticks and together to count off. _One, two, three, four._

Arthur started off with his intro, and I stood there with my eyes closed, feeling the music, until it was my cue.

_"She said, he so sweet, I wanna lick the wrapper…"_

The performance was awesome. We _owned_ that stage (garage?). Arthur threw in a bunch of fancy riffs at the bridge, and Antonio was showing off, jumping off the amps and doing random flips and shit, and I was completely spot-on with my vocals.

But the awesomest part was near the end, when I looked up and saw Lizzie looking at me. Directly at me. I couldn't describe the look in her eyes… It was just… awesome. And it sent shivers down my spine. Good shivers.

Then she turned red and looked away.

All of this without completely fucking up the song.

Life was so awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note ~<strong>

Thursday chapter is on Thursday, haha. :) I had actually fun writing this. It's sort of short, but hopefully that's okay. ;) It's mostly fluff, so ha. (hahahah complete random implied USUK in the middle rofl I don't even ship USUK)

Monica = Monaco  
>Erin = Ireland<br>Liam = Northern Ireland  
>Daren = Wales<br>Ian = Scotland  
>Jager = Holland<br>Lux = Luxembourg  
>Leon = Hong Kong<br>Lucy = Seychelles

And also, if you guys are confused at all, here's the lineup for **The Kingdom**, the band in this fic:

**Gilbert: **vocals, rhythm guitar  
><strong>Arthur: <strong>lead guitar  
><strong>Antonio: <strong>bass  
><strong>Mathias: <strong>drums


	7. friday night

**Time: 05:02 PM**

**Place: My house. **

"Bruder," Ludwig said that night. "What are you doing?"

I glanced away from the mirror. "Dude, this is facepaint. Isn't it awesome?"

Ludwig sighed. "At this point I really don't care."

School that day had pretty much been a joyride. We did nothing at all in class, except chill and listen to our iPods and text, and then at the end of the day, we were all ushered out into the stadium area to buy food from the random booths that clubs had set up and watched the parades. I loved how they made such a big deal out of some random shit.

Ludwig didn't have soccer that day, so he'd gotten home rather early to see me with my face streaked with green and white paint. I was also wearing a T-shirt that said 'Atlas Eagles' in blocky letters across the front.

Ludwig, on the other hand, was just wearing a boring green jacket.

"You never have any fun, bro," I complained, drawing another streak on my face.

"No, I just don't want myself to look like an idiot."

"This isn't idiotic! This is awesome!"

Ludwig rubbed his forehead. "Whatever. Antonio is picking us up in ten minutes, so be ready to leave by then."

"Ten minutes? More like fifteen. He probably forgot and left late or something."

And sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Antonio's SUV pulled up in front of our house. He must've had some fun yesterday, since it was all decked out and spray painted with green and white, our school colors.

"I see you pimped your ride, Tony," I remarked as I crawled over Arthur to get to my seat.

"Thanks, Gilbo," he chirped.

"Ugh, your butt's in my face," Arthur said.

"Sorry man," I said, grinning evilly. "But I know you liked it, right? Cuz let's face it, my ass is awesome."

"Git," he muttered.

Francis (who was sitting shotgun) and I burst out laughing. Arthur gave us a funny look. "What?" he demanded.

"British expressions," Francis chortled.

"Queen's English," I snorted.

"You both are gits, the lot of you!" he yelled, which only made us laugh even harder.

"Um, where do I sit?" asked Luddy hesitantly, still standing on the curb.

"Veh! Ludwig, I saved a seat in the back for you!" Feliciano leaned forward and waved.

"Not the potato bastard, dammit!" grumbled another voice from the back, and I mentally groaned. _Oh, God, no. Not Lovino._

Lovino Vargas was probably one of the most annoying kids to walk the face of the earth. I mean, sure, he was definitely a cute kid, with slightly chubby cheeks and round hazel eyes (cuteness must run in the family) but for the love of God, couldn't he just do the world a favor and shut up for a little bit? We all knew he had an extensive vocab of swear words, there was no need for him to flaunt it every single fucking day! The boy could turn Mother Theresa into an axe murderer!

After Ludwig climbed into the back, Antonio started driving towards the school.

"You guys didn't drink at all today, right?" I asked them when we pulled up to the parking lot. We could already hear the music and smell the food.

"Nope!" chirped Antonio. "I am totally and completely sober!"

"Good." I glanced sideways at Arthur. "And no alcohol for you."

"Why not?" he asked me.

"Because you're a _horrible_ drunk!" Francis snickered.

"I am not!"

"Yeah," I snorted. "And your scones are the best things I've ever tasted."

"Shut up! Those things are a staple in England!"

"I hate English food!" Feliciano wailed from the back.

"They better fucking have pizza there, or I'm not eating shit," muttered Lovino.

Somehow everything always turned into a food argument.

Tony hit the brakes. "Well, we're here," he said into the rearview mirror. "Everyone have their cash?"

xx

**Time: 5:42 PM**

**Place: AHS Stadium parking lot**

Every year, before the Homcoming game, Atlas High School always has a huge tailgate party. Over the years, they've dubbed it the Hot Dog Dance. Yes, you can get hot dogs there, but they also serve cheese pizza for vegetarians. And you can get popcorn, too, for some reason. There's always a band playing (albeit this year a relatively crappy one—no band at AHS would ever be as awesome as us) and random games to play.

But in reality? It's essentially a huge water fight.

That's why, even though we'd only been there for twenty minutes, me, Francis, and Antonio were all dripping wet and soaked to the bone.

"Yeah!" I yelled at them, lobbing another water balloon at Sadik. "Bring it on, ya dick!"

Francis and Antonio were behind me, laughing hysterically.

"Dude," I said, once I'd gotten hit in the face with another water balloon. "Where's Arthur? I wanna make fun of this band with him, and nobody snarks like that Brit."

They blinked. "Where _is_ Arthur?" Francis echoed thoughtfully.

We glanced around until we saw a certain blond Brit chatting up a certain blond cousin of Francis's.

Francis was the first to start laughing. "_Mon Dieu, _he's hitting on Bella!"

It was true. He was totally hitting on her. It was hilarious. We were all laughing within a matter of seconds. "Okay, guys," I told them. "We have to mess it up somehow."

"Yes! Cockblocking!" Antonio pumped a fist. (And quite frankly, I was surprised he knew what that meant.)

"But what to do?" Francis mused.

"I have an idea," I said, and motioned for them to huddle.

xx

**Time: 5:51 PM**

"Four older siblings," said Bella, eyes wide open. "Wow, that really sucks."

"Yes, quite. Especially since I have to deal with Ian every day." Arthur's eyes flicked over to his brother, who was grinding with a bunch of girls. Not awkward at all.

"Oh, hon hon hon," Francis chuckled in my ear. "Playing the sympathy card. Yes, I've played that many times myself."

"On who? I'm not sure anyone would think that _you_ would have an innocent face," I snarked back.

"Shhh!" said Antonio. "I can't hear them."

"You don't need to," I said. "Arthur's in the middle of a long-winded rant about his life. I think it's time to execute the plan."

"I wanna do it!" said Tony.

"No way! I'm the one who thought of it! You guys just enjoy the show."

"Oh, believe me." Francis held up his phone. "I will."

Creeper.

"—Then he gave me the bloody thing for Christmas and Mum got so mad at him—" Arthur was still ranting when I casually walked up behind him. Then, ever so subtly, I knocked his elbow from behind with mine, causing the drink in his hand to spill. Right onto Bella's shirt. On her chest.

It couldn't have turned out any better.

"Aw, shit!" he explaimed. "Here, let me clean that—" He dabbed a random handkerchief (Can you believe it? He really wants to be a gentleman) at her chest, but she slapped his hand away.

"I'll handle it myself, thanks," she snapped, and walked away.

He looked a little hurt, until he caught sight of us laughing maniacally from the sidelines.

Oh, man. Ruining Arthur's life was great.

xx

**Time: 8:02 PM**

**Place: AHS Stadium**

"TOUCHDOWN FOR THE EAGLES!" Antonio screamed, and everyone in the stands went crazy as Alfred, in his green-and-white jersey, hurtled towards the end zone.

"YEAHHHH! GO AL!" I yelled at the top of my lungs.

He reached the last strip of grass, threw the football down, and did cartwheels all along the zone.

Needless to say, the crowd went wild.

All of us were sitting in a small section of bleachers, cheering Alfred on. He was running back on the football team and he'd just gotten switched on, so it was pretty major.

And of course, it was Homecoming. So we sort of _had _to go.

The cheers died down slightly, and my eyes randomly caught sight of a familiar brunette.

A very familiar brunette.

Lizzie. Along with a bunch of her friends, like Mei and Bella. And Lucy.

What? She wasn't with Roderich? That was odd. They definitely went together last year. And I wondered why Roddy didn't come at all. I mean, I would have thought, since it was _homecoming _that he would go.

Luddy was sitting in front of me, so I leaned forward to talk to him.

"Hey, Luddy," I yelled in his ear so he could hear me over all the noise.

"What?"

"Where's Roddy?"

"Roderich? He's at home. He didn't want to go."

"What?" I was seriously confused now. "He didn't even go with Lizzie?"

"No. They broke up."

Wait, what? I must've misheard him. He didn't say that. He definitely didn't say that. They would never break up. That was just… weird. No, it was the noise of the crowd.

"What?" I yelled again. "What'd you say?"

"They broke up!" he yelled back.

"Who, Roderich and Elizaveta?" Francis tuned in to our conversation. "Yes. They're finished. Lizzie finally ended it, and Roddy's probably playing some funeral marches on his piano now."

The world suddenly seemed a little bit brighter. But there was no way I could go out with Lizzie now. It wouldn't feel right.

Feliciano turned and smiled at me. "Vehh!" he said brightly. "Don't worry Gilbo. It'll be all right."

Francis nudged me and winked, and Antonio patted my back encouragingly.

Did everyone know about this already? Shit.

"_Mon ami_. Go for it," Francis whispered in my ear.

I glanced at Lizzie again, sitting a couple rows ahead of us.

She was so beautiful.

xx

**Time: 11:02 PM**

**Place: My house. [That's right. Again.]**

So there I was. In my house. With my phone.

No fucking idea what to do.

So, fine. Lizzie had broken up with Roderich.

…

Nope. My mind was about to explode. The fact was just too much to process. Yes, I had liked her for a long time now, and yes, she had gone out with him during the said time that I liked her, and yes, I'd pretty much gotten used to that. It wasn't like I'd given up or anything, it's just… I would feel bad if I'd broken them up. Especially if it was me.

I mean, yeah. Even if it was Roddy. He was my cousin, after all. I'd still feel bad for him.

It was still a lot to process. They were always together. Always.

"_I feel like we're growing apart."_

I didn't know where that came from, but it echoed in my head randomly, and the memory of us lying on the grass, gazing up at the stars. It suddenly struck me how romantic that was, what we were doing yesterday. Whose idea was that? Oh, right. Hers.

She couldn't possibly like me like that. We were best friends. That was it.

I glanced at my phone. Only one way to find out.

I picked it up and texted her.

**Gilbert: **hey, i heard abt Roddy. R u ok?

Her reply was quick.

**Elizaveta: **I'm fine, thx :)

Nothing definitive, then.

I sat down on my bed.

Now, I don't know whether it was the whiskey that we all had at Arthur's house after the game, or whether it was the memory of her kissing me that one Saturday night, but I took my phone and typed another message.

**Gilbert: **U going w n e one to homecoming?

**Elizaveta: **haha yeah. bella's my date, lol

So she was going with her friends.

**Elizaveta: **Didnt antonio tell u? evryones going together :)

Seriously? A group date? I didn't have much to say to that. I did kind of want to go with her, but... hm. I guess Roderich wouldn't go to Homecoming if he didn't go with Lizzie. It wasn't like I was jealous or anything. It was just…

_Gott._ I didn't even know anymore.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note ~<strong>

Haha sorry for that disappointment of a chapter... I am determined to torture Gilbo romantically as long as possible. Bwahahahahahahahaha. One chapter left to write for the main storyline, although I was thinking about maybe writing an omake/bonus chapter. So if you want one REVIEW AND TELL ME OKAY? :D

*The Hot Dog Dance is _totally_ a Homecoming tradition at my school. Although I'm not quite sure they actually have a water-balloon fight then. ^_^;


	8. homecoming night

**Time: 6:41 PM**

**Place: Carriedo Residence. [I don't think I'll ever get over how huge that place is.]**

Antonio opened the door. "Hey, Gilbo! You're looking great!"

"Ahhh Tony," I said, clapping him on the back. "Flattery won't get you anywhere."

Although he wasn't lying. I looked pretty awesome, and I knew it—black button down shirt, skinny jeans borrowed from Arthur, and a silver Iron Cross necklace, the shirt opened slightly to reveal it. On top of that I'd thrown on a dark silver vest that I left open, and I'd stuck in my stud earring before I'd left the house. Just for effect. It wasn't like there wasn't a rule against it.

And plus, it was the color scheme that Arthur had assigned us (the band) to dress up in.

He was _that_ OCD.

Walking inside, I could see that everyone had actually followed it. A good decision, considering what Arthur might have done if we hadn't. The Brit himself was wearing straight black, with a silver tie. Mathias had gone all black too, with silver suspenders and chains, and Antonio had a silver-lined blazer over a black t-shirt. Then there was Francis, all dressed up with a flower in his button hole—of course. He looked up when I walked in.

"Hey," he said. "Where's Ludwig?"

"He's off with Feli and Kiku, I think," I said. "Hanging with the sophomores tonight, ha ha."

"Ah, to leave your dear beloved brother alone with a group of people you barely know!" Francis put a hand over his heart, his expression fake-wounded. "How could you do such a thing?"

"Frannie, you're an only child, so stuff it, okay?" I shoved my hands in my pockets. (Gott, those skinny jeans were _tight._ How did Arthur wear these things every day?)

I scanned the rest of the room. Yup, there was Bella in pink and Lucy showing off her deep perma-tan in white, but where was Lizzie?

"Hey, I heard someone come in, who's—" Her voice broke off as she walked in, and I turned around to look at her.

_Mein Gott._ She was beautiful. So ridiculously beautiful.

I don't use that word often. I'd always felt awkward about using that word since it was so _girly_, but tonight… she definitely deserved it.

Her dress was kind of low-cut and made of this dark, silky fabric. It was blue. Prussian blue. One of the straps had this decorative flower pinned on it. And it looked great with her pale skin and her long brown hair which was in an up-do, a couple curling strands escaping the pins. She'd even put makeup on. Not a lot. Just enough to make her lips shiny and her lashes a tad darker, but beautiful.

"Gilbo? Gilbo!" A sharp pain in my ribs jolted me back from heaven. "Earth to Gilbo! We're leaving now!"

"Oh. Right." I stopped staring at Lizzie, who was gossiping with Bella and Lucy, and went outside with my guitar.

"Unnngh!" Arthur grunted as he put last of the drums in Arthur's old hand-me-down of a van. "Oh, hey, Gilbert. Where's your guitar?"

"Right here, British boy." I held it up.

"All right. I'll put it in here and then when we get there I'll give it to you."

"Okay. Let's get going then."

There were two cars. First there was Arthur's van, where all the band shit was. Arthur was going to drive that one. The other car was Tony's SUV, where everyone else was going to go.

"C'mon, let's go!" Antonio opened the SUV door.

"Lucy and I call the middle seat!" Francis said, winking at the tanned girl. Creepy old perv, but he'd somehow done something to her because she blushed and hit him with her tiny thing of a handbag.

"I CALL SHOTGUN!" Mathias yelled, running down the driveway like he was five years old and pretending to be an airplane.

Antonio beamed. "That leaves you in the backseat with Elizaveta and Bella," he said.

I glanced at Mathias and Francis. They grinned back at me, and Mathias climbed into the shotgun seat, doing one of those low whistles.

Little dicks. "I'll get you for this," I muttered darkly to Francis, who only laughed his obnoxious French laugh.

xx

**Time: 8:04 PM**

**Place: AHS – Men's bathroom next to the Gym**

Everything had gone rather smoothly. The car ride there was kind of awkward, I'll admit, since I was squished between Lizzie and the window, but I made do. We'd gotten all our equipment inside the gym and even had time to get warmed up a little. I'd even done those goddamned vocal exercises that Arthur had taught me. Mathias was tapping his drumsticks on Tony's head (as usual) and Arthur was bobbing his head to whatever was on his iPod and I was eating a hot dog. That was my dinner.

Then I realized I had to pee, so I went off to satisfy my urge. When I got there, I remembered something.

Something like last Saturday night, at a time much later than this.

"_Gilbert… let's just get this over with."_

The sensation of kissing her—warm and familiar and so right. Her warm skin sliding against mine, the closeness of her and the faint trace of a fruity shampoo scent in her soft hair. Details that I hadn't known that I'd remembered at all came rushing back to me. Her pale skin, her soft hands, her green eyes burning with something that I couldn't understand.

More and more images. That small smile of hers as she'd said goodbye on Sunday; her soft laugh and firm green gaze in the stairwell; us, lying in the grass close enough to hold hands under the stars; the small stolen gaze and red blush in the jam session; and just now, beautiful and dressed to the fucking nines. So beautiful I'd nearly forgotten to breathe.

I was finished with my 'business' now, and went to the sink, splashed water on my face, and stood there.

Breathing.

Breathing and remembering.

Elizaveta Hedervary. I could have stood there all night, breathing her name in and out, again and again.

"Gilbo? Are you okay?" An annoying British voice. Shit. I bolted for the stalls, locking it and crouching on the toilet, ignoring how idiotic I felt, hiding from my own friends. I was on memory overload right now.

"Gilbert, we have to get up on stage. Now." Arthur walked in. "Come out, I know you're in there somewhere."

"Yeah, you okay, amigo?" Antonio.

I wasn't. Tony could say that for the next five hours and I still wouldn't be okay.

"Yo! Gilbo! Earth to Gilbo!" Another obnoxious voice. Nope, not even Mattie's obnoxious voice could make me sane.

My phone, buzzing and glowing with her name in white letters on the display. Her, smiling and laughing an cheering at the Homecoming game. Us, sitting in my car, side by side, while I drove her home. Sitting at a table with her and speaking to her in German.

That one day. The first day of freshman year at the bus stop. The girl I'd thought I'd known, a completely different person. Long brown hair that tumbled to her waist, a certain grace that a guy could never have.

I curled my fists in my hair.

BOOM!

The bathroom door bust open in my face.

"Gilbo!" Mathias screamed at me. "Chop-chop! Let's go!"

They had to drag me out. Very uncharacteristically unawesome of me, but then again, any remaining awesomeness had deserted me in my hour of need.

"Is he okay?" Antonio.

"Can't be sure, bro."

"Well, he needs to snap out of it! We're going on in thirty bloody seconds!"

"This isn't TV, amigo."

"Whatever!"

"So what do we do? He's like a human turtle now."

"I know, Mathias! Just shut up and let me think for one bloody second!"

"Why are all the second bloody?"

"Shut the bloody hell up, Antonio!"

"Gilbo? It's Mattie, man. You need some beer or what?"

"I got it! Out of my bloody way!"

"_Que pasa?_"

"What—where'd you get that frying pan? I don't—"

"Shut up and give me some room!"

A thundering _crack_ and a pain in my head so intense my eyes watered brought me back from the living dead.

"Owwwww!" I moaned. "The hell was that for?"

"We're going on! NOW!" Arthur tried to drag me up into a standing position.

"What?"

"BAND!" He barked at me. "HOMECOMING! STAGE! NOW!"

Oh. Right.

I stood up—my head feeling dizzy—grabbed my guitar, and walked out onto the makeshift stage, everyone else behind me. It was really dark out in the gym, the only lights on the stage and around the edges, where they flashed like strobe lights in a club.

The mike was standing there, waiting for me. So were the thousand-plus kids now cheering in our arrival.

I put my hand on the microphone. Cleared my throat. Summoned all my awesomeness back. And grinned.

"HELLOOOOOOO ATLAS HIGH SCHOOL! Welcome. To. HOMECOMING 2011!" I pumped a fist, and the kids cheered.

I was awesome again.

"We're The Kingdom! And we're here to rock your Homecoming UNTIL ELEVEN P. M.!"

More cheering.

"Haha! Just kidding!"

A couple of joking boos, but I waved them off, still grinning. I was on stage. I had the mike. All I felt was pure awesome.

Pure. Fucking. Awesome.

"So let's FRIGGIN START THE PARTY ALREADY, AM I RIGHT?" I pointed at Mattie. "COUNT OFF!"

He clacked his sticks together four times, and began with a quick, lively rhythm, and I closed my eyes, tapping my foot. There was Antonio with his cue… swinging his bass and hips and making the girls squeal. Before I knew it, it was turn to go. I licked my lips, leaned into the mike, and sang.

"_She says she's no good—with words, but I'm worse…"_

xx

"He's such a good singer!" Bella whooped as she put her arms up and swung her hips to the beat.

Elizaveta looked up a Gilbert, who was having the time of his life up there, swinging his guitar, dancing and spinning around to the music, giving the crowd sexy, devilish looks with his red-violet eyes. He was smiling from ear to ear, belting out the lyrics into the microphone. His pale, bone-bleached hair looked white in the lights, and his Iron cross necklace glinted and shone.

He was certainly an excellent performer. He learned the guitar so fast that Lizzie wondered sometimes if he'd been a rock star in a past life. Now he spun and danced onstage like he was born there, a wicked grin splitting his face, his sweaty face, as he sang.

Gilbert Beilschmidt. Her best friend. She'd never thought of him that way before. But as Roderich slipped away from her, she noticed him suddenly. His silver hair, his sharp angled face, his pale, slim torso, his wicked red-eyed grin.

"_Dance, dance, we're falling apart to half time…"_

And he was playing their song.

Their song from middle school, back when they were the best of friends, back when she was in love with Fall Out Boy, one of her many phases of music, and back when he listened to rock music. He was always listening to rock music. They studied to that song, they sang that song on field trips, they danced to that song, they breathed to that song. It was the song that always reminded her of him.

He was amazing. She loved that.

She loved him.

xx

Three minutes later we were all soaked with sweat and smiling so hard our faces hurt. Even _Arthur_, that uptight cranky Brit was smiling, for God's sake. The crowd was roaring in my ears, and I pumped a fist, still smiling.

It was the best adrenaline rush ever. Better than getting off a roller coaster. Better than jumping off the high dive.

It felt like we reached our final chord too soon. It felt like we should have gone on forever, Antonio strumming his bass, Mattie pounding away on his drums and Artie with his fancy classic Hendrix-inspired riffs. Me, gripping that microphone and feeding off the energy of that crowd, getting high off their excitement. I was as irrational and crazy as a drunk Arthur at that moment.

So, floating on my little cloud of performance ecstasy, I grabbed the mike.

The events echoed in my head louder now. I could see Lizzie clearly in my mind's eye, her warm softness, her green eyes, her kind smile.

And before I knew it, my lips and tongue were moving.

"Before we go to our next song"—the crowd stopped cheering a little bit—"I wanted to make a shout out."

My eyes searched the crowd of kids until I found a pair of green eyes, green eyes I'd known my entire life, green as the grass lawns we once played on.

"Elizaveta Hedervary," I said into the mike. "I'm not sorry for anything that happened this week. I'm not sorry for anything that happened this week. I'm not sorry because… I'm in love with you."

Ignoring the murmuring crowd and instead staring into Lizzie's widening green eyes, I said the craziest thing I'd ever said in my life.

"Lizzie… will you be my girlfriend?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note~<strong>

That's right. I just did. I totally just did. Bwahahahahahaha.

This is the end! (Or is it? :3) I want to thank everyone who read this story and subscribed this to their alert and favorited and reviewed because it's you guys who kept this story going till the end! I pretty much _never _finish a fanfic so this is actually a really big thing for me, lol. I LOVE YOU ALL. LIKE, MORE THAN GILBO LOVES LIZZIE. NO JOKE. *ginormous hug*

*The song that they're playing is "Dance, Dance" by Fall Out Boy. :)

*If you want to get a better idea of what Lizzie was wearing to Homecoming, click on my name and scroll down in my bio until you see a link that says "Elizaveta's dress." Or something along the lines of that. : Drawn by yours truly.

**If you still want an omake (bonus), REVIEW AND SAY SO! I'll do it if five people ask me to ;)**


	9. Bonus: late saturday night

**Time: 11:36 PM**

**Place: Mathias's house**

"PUT YO HANDS UP!" Mathias waved his glow sticks around and whooped.

Another Saturday night, another party, another house. This time it was Mathias's house, and since he was in the band, we all kind of had to go. And free booze. Plus, Mathias was a genius at mixing shots.

And Lizzie wanted to go.

It was a sort of tradition for someone to host the Homecoming afterparty, since God knows we all can't get enough of crowding a house and mosh-pitting to loud dance music. (Who would host was usually decided by a game of poker a week before Homecoming.) Yup, three hours was definitely not enough for us. Even if the music was in a different language, with snatches of English—but then again, that Korean sophomore kid Yong Soo had volunteered to DJ and he was pretty boss at it.

"_Everyone put your hands up, and get your drinks up…_"

And everyone had glow sticks. I don't know whether that was in his budget or not, but the glow stick-ness was pretty awesome.

The thing is, I was kind of tired, so I was chilling by the bar that connected the kitchen to the living room, which had been made into a makeshift dance-floor. I had a beer in one hand, and Lizzie's hand in the other.

It was pretty awesome.

"I still can't believe that you guys played 'Dance, Dance' for Homecoming," she said, rubbing her thumb over my hand.

"Ahh, that was only cuz yours awesomely suggested it," I said, and she laughed. "But really," I added, "If I hadn't said anything, Arthur would've had us play something hard rock, which, I guess is what we usually play, and it's the style that he usually writes songs in."

"That's really awesome," she said, and I saw a glimmer of awe in her eyes.

"Ah, shit," I said. "You're making me blush."

She laughed.

"Hey guys!" Mattie shuffled by (and I mean LMFAO shuffling). "When are you guys gonna dance? It's a party, man!"

"Dude, aren't you supposed to be behind the bar?" I raised my bottle and took a swig of it.

"I wanted to dance, man!" Mathias grinned. "And you seriously need to stop being a party pooper. I mean, what happened to the party Gilbo we all know and love?"

I looked at Lizzie. "Well," I said. "You kind of _are _my girlfriend."

She turned red. "Yeah, guess I am."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I drank the rest of my beer. "You said yes, didn't you?"

She peeked at me out of the corner of her eye. "I guess I did…"

"Seriously, Lizzie," I said, sliding off the bar stool and motioning to go out to the dance floor, "do I actually have to ask you formally to dance with me?"

"No! Fuck you!" but she start laughing and I took her hand and led her into the throng of dancers.

A new song was starting, and I pulled her close to me. She slid her arms around my neck and I leaned in and put my hands on her hips, which were moving to the beat. She smelled nice, like vanilla, and felt even nicer.

"This is really awesome," she said in my ear.

"You know what's awesomer?" I said, grinning.

"No." She was smiling too, wondering where I was going with it.

"This," I said, and I closed the distance between us and kissed her. Right in the middle of the dancers jumping up and down to some guys singing in some Asian language.

It sounds so incredibly cheesy and cliché, but I swear I saw fireworks. Maybe it was just everyone waving glowsticks around. Whatever it was, it was exactly like I said. Awesome.

And we kept kissing.

"Upstairs?" she whispered playfully, her hand rubbing the side of my head. I know it sounds really weird, but it actually felt really nice.

I drew back. "Wow. Roddy really didn't give you enough, did he?"

She rolled her eyes. "You are _so_ lucky that I left my frying pan at home." But even with the joke, the question still lingered in her eyes.

I looked into them, those circles of green. "Of course, Lizzie."

_Anything for you, Lizzie._

You know how the rest goes.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note~<strong>

Aggh… what a disappointment of an omake… I'm sorry to all of those people who reviewed and e-glomped me for a review, haha. But still. =_= I'm sorry!

ANYWAY. Again, THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE WHO READ THIS STORY AND ADDED THIS TO THEIR ALERT AND FAVORITED THIS STORY AND REVIEWED AND EVERYTHING BECAUSE YOU GUYS MADE THIS STORY POSSIBLE! If not for you guys, this would have remained a drabble forever. (lol) Again, I love you all MORE THAN GILBO LOVES LIZZIE. TRUE STORY. (heart)

*The song that I quoted is "Hands Up" by 2PM. Yeah, totally not an excuse to stick K-pop in there… haha.

*Mathias is always a genius with alcohol. I guess it's a headcanon? It showed up randomly in my other story _The Name Is Arthur Kirkland_ because he's a bartender in that one. Ah well.

*Random babble about **The Kingdom: **They played "Dance, Dance" at Homecoming because it was an adaptable cross between rock and pop, and well, it's just an awesome dance song. Normally, they would play stuff that would be closer to the style of the band **Muse**. If you want to get a better idea, you can go ahead and listen to "Sunburn," "Cave," and "Muscle Museum." :3 I think, really, they can play anything, though. XD


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